


Writing Retreat

by drowning_ophelia



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Derry, F/M, Original Character(s), Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 21:52:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16773622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drowning_ophelia/pseuds/drowning_ophelia
Summary: Amelia Welsh returns to her mother's hometown to start working on her first novel. Little does she know that Derry holds more than just family history, inspiration, and an attractive barista—there's danger lurking in the shadows. And danger's cunning, yellow eyes are watching the young writer closely...





	1. Chapter 1

Being back in Derry felt strange. After my parents had passed away two years ago, I hadn’t stepped foot in this town. However, this fall, after I had finished my undergraduate program in creative writing at Columbia, I traveled back to Maine.  
  
Aunt Viola, my mother’s younger sister, still lived there. She had been the one to claim their childhood home while my mom had moved to Boston where she met my dad. For reasons beyond my understanding, Viola had neither married nor had any kids. But she wasn’t your typical spinster: she was a clever, educated, and attractive woman and had earned good money with a series of books. Her horror fiction series for children was widely popular and, ultimately, she had been the one who had turned me onto writing.  
  
While I was in Derry, isolated from distractions, I planned on writing my first novel—something I had always found excuses to postpone. But now, with a degree under my belt and lots of time on my hands, there was no reason left to not get to work. So I had packed up and moved out of my small apartment in New York, changing the busy streets and anonymity for the quiet small-town life.  
  
Aunt Viola had moved from her old home to a beautiful new-built house, located on the outskirts of town. The modern architecture was a stark contrast to the other houses found in Derry, but she wasn’t exactly like the rest of the town folks either, so it seemed like a good fit.  
  
“Are you all set?” she asked after having dumped a stack of linens on the still unmade bed in the guest room. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll take good care of the house while you’re on your book tour,” I promised. “I never doubted it for a second.” She looked at me with the same warm smile that had also been my mother’s. They resembled each other so much at times that it made my heart heavy.  
  
“Just promise me that you’ll be safe. Don’t wander around on your own after dark,” she warned me. My brows nudged together in a frown. “I’m over twenty, Viola. I’ll be fine. I didn’t get killed in New York, and I doubt anything will happen to me here in Derry.”  
  
A worried look appeared on her beautiful and fairly youthful face. Aunt Viola was in her forties now, her shoulder-length light blonde hair faintly starting to turn grey. My mom’s hair had been the same shade of blonde, her eyes the same deep blue as her sister’s. I had inherited both and if I would age the same, I would consider myself blessed.  
  
“Remember that we lost our brother to the evil in this town,” she reminded me. Of course, I remembered the stories. No one ever forgot.  
Henry had been the youngest child of the family and had disappeared when he was eleven. My mom had been eighteen at the time and Viola fifteen. They always said that ‘the evil’ had gotten their little brother—whatever that meant. To me, it seemed like they were afraid of saying that there had been some crazy person that had abducted and killed him. Someone the police had never been able to catch.  
  
“I’m twenty-two. I can take care of myself.” I gave her a reassuring smile, but the worry on her face didn’t cease. “I just couldn’t bear to lose you, too,” she eventually said, giving me a tight hug. “Stop worrying. I’ll be here when you get back. And I’ll stay awhile, too,” I gave her a squeeze before she let go of me.  
“I’ll be back in three weeks,” she reminded me, “But now, I have to finish packing.” I nodded, telling her that if she needed help, I’d be down here. 

While my aunt was packing to leave, I was unpacking to stay.  
  
It wasn’t difficult to find room for all my stuff. Most of my furniture had stayed back in New York and whatever I had taken with me, fit perfectly into the sparsely decorated guest room that would be mine for a not foreseeable timeframe.  
  
After having made the bed, I finished hanging the last things into the roomy closet and decided on making dinner for Viola and myself. While I stirred in the pot with tomato soup, keeping track of the grilled cheese that was turning golden on the pan, it was getting dark outside.  
  
It was so quiet here, a quiet I wasn’t used to and there were barely any streetlamps outside. This part of town was still pretty unoccupied, with only one other house on the street so far. All the other plots were still for sale. It was doubtful that they would ever fill up, as it felt to me that more people were moving away from Derry, than to the small town. And who could blame them, really.   
  
“All set?” I asked when I heard Viola coming down the free-standing staircase that separated the living area from the dining space and open kitchen. “Yes, I think so,” she answered and slid onto one of the stools at the kitchen isle. “Hungry?” I checked. “Famished,” she announced, looking grateful for the dinner I had thrown together.  
While we ate, Viola discussed my writing plans with me, giving me some good pointers and helped me find a clearer direction. Considering that she only wrote children’s books, she was a very talented and cunning writer. A part of me had always thought that her talents were wasted on just writing for kids. She could easily spin some major literary works if she ever felt like it.  
  
“I’ll go to bed now. I have to leave tomorrow at five in the morning so I can make it to the airport on time.” She rolled her eyes in annoyance. Like me, she loved sleeping in. Maybe that was a writer’s thing? “You sure you don’t want me to bring you?” I checked for what seemed like the hundredth time. “They will send a car for me. The luxuries of being a bestselling author,” she scoffed.  
Viola gave me a last tight hug, telling me to not get up tomorrow to see her off — she also made me promise, again, to stay safe and not to go outside after dark. When we had said goodnight and goodbye, I retreated into my room, getting ready for bed and a good night’s sleep. When my head finally hit the pillow, I went out like a light.


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning, the sun’s rays were falling in through the curtain, tickling me awake. Outside, the colorful leaves were swaying gently in a soft breeze, their shadows casting beautiful dancing patterns onto the ground. Today promised to be a gorgeous fall day: a crisp chill in the air and only a few fluffy clouds were scattered around an otherwise cerulean sky. Perfect.  
  
After a quick breakfast, consisting of oatmeal and orange juice, I decided that I wanted to walk into town. Derry had exactly one artisan coffee shop and I had planned on visiting it regularly as I was addicted to a good latte, just like all the other basic girls.  
  
After a long, relaxing shower I threw on my usual all-black outfit, consisting of skinny jeans, a cashmere sweater, leather ankle lace-up boots, a leather jacket and a large scarf. Before leaving, I applied some mascara and collected my long hair into a tight bun, making sure the wind wouldn’t tussle it too much. Grabbing my purse on the way out, I started my route into town.  
  
Not too many people were out and about today, although the kids had just started their two-week fall break. Some locals waved at me and I greeted them back, even if I wasn’t always quite sure who they were. Everyone in town knew Viola, my family, and me. I might as well get used to the faces and the smalltalk. Might as well learn to enjoy it.  
  
Main Street was a picturesque place with red brick buildings, sycamore trees, flower-filled hanging baskets on iron light poles and small shops. In theory, this would be a perfect spot for a weekend getaway. Why they didn’t try to push tourism more was beyond me.   
  
Quickly I found the coffee shop and inhaled deeply when I stepped through the door, savoring the welcoming scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods.  
The place was mostly empty—only one table was occupied by two teenage girls who were clearly exchanging the newest gossip. In one of the heavy armchairs, an older man was enjoying his drink and the newspaper.  
  
“Hi, what can I get you?” The barista’s voice pulled my attention back to the counter. “A large latte, thank you,” I said, looking over the fresh cinnamon rolls, cupcakes, and other pastries. “Anything else?” he checked when he noticed my hungry gaze. “No, I’m alright,” I assured him, deciding against a second breakfast.  
  
While he started his handiwork, I noticed that he was very good-looking, tall, and fairly muscular. Clad in jeans and a plaid shirt, he catered to the stereotypical image of a barista. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up slightly, showing off his defined arms, something I was a sucker for. I was also a sucker for his blazing blue eyes, the blonde hair, and stubble. His hair was combed back casually, a streak falling into his handsome face as he worked on the coffee. While I fumbled for the money, enjoying the view of him working, I was grateful that I had noticed how hot he was after I had ordered, because usually when encountering someone that attractive I would forget how to person. Smooth wasn’t exactly my middle name.  
  
“You’re Viola Edward’s niece, aren’t you?” he checked, handing me my coffee in exchange for the money. “Yeah, I’m Amelia Welsh.” He gave me a crooked smile. “Nice to meet you, Amelia. I’m Alex.” I smiled back, “Nice to meet you, too.”  
  
Ignoring his flirtatious smile to keep from blushing, I took my coffee and got cozy in one of the armchairs, pulling out the book I was currently reading. Just when I had taken the first sip of coffee—which was delicious and much needed—and had opened my book, I saw a shadow from the corner of my eye. A large figure folded itself onto the chair opposite of mine.  
  
“So, Amelia, I can see you’re not reading your aunt’s work,” Alex noted, a grin on his lips. “No, I’m currently obsessing over Philip K. Dick, as you can see,” I handed him my book. “Blade Runner is one of my favorite movies.” He nodded appreciatively, reading through the blurb on the back of the book. “A Scanner Darkly has been adapted, too, if you’re interested,” I said. His eyes met mine, “I’m very interested.” I swallowed hard. Flirting was just not my division.  
  
“Um, maybe it’s on Netflix,” I offered ingeniously and took a sip of my coffee, looking for an excuse to stop talking before things got awkward. “Maybe,” he mused, looking me over, making me feel uncomfortable. “Or maybe I could get it on Amazon and then we could watch it together,” he suggested, a playful glint in his eyes.  
  
Trying to look anywhere but at Alex, something outside caught my attention. Randomly, a red balloon floated past the window. “What’s up?” Alex checked, following my gaze. “I’m…not sure,” I admitted, seeing a kid following the balloon with swift steps.   
“I’ll…I’ll be right back,” I said, grabbed my bag and hurried out of store, my eyes still on the kid that was following the balloon. “Amelia, your book!” But Alex’s voice barely registered behind me. “I’ll be right back,” I repeated over my shoulder, hurrying after the little boy, who had made a sharp turn into a side street. Why exactly I had decided to follow him was unclear to me, but it just…felt right. It felt like I had to follow him, had to make sure he was okay.  
  
Merry laughter came from in front of me and I spotted the kid again, deciding that he was probably not much older than six years. He had managed to catch the balloon. A yelp almost escaped me as I came to an abrupt halt, another movement catching my eye. A clown stepped out of the shadows and into the narrow alley.  
  
An unnatural eeriness surrounded the clown, an eeriness I simply couldn’t explain. He was impossibly tall, almost seven feet, with fluffy ginger hair. White paint was caked onto his face, hiding his eyebrows and amplifying the other features, his nose and mouth, which were painted deep red. His lips curled up in a goofy smile that seemed extended by the red paint running from the corners of the mouth, up in lines over his eyes. His prominent two front teeth made him look grotesque.  
The intricate costume looked as if from the renaissance. It was made from grayish silk that might once have been white, with three red pompoms adorning the front, the color a stark contrast. A white fluffy, elizabethan-looking collar sat around his neck and the sleeves of the suit were ruffled with white and red bells jingling at the wrists and ankles.  
  
He seemed off…just off and wrong.  
  
His intense, blue eyes were fixed on the child in front of him and to my disgust drool dripped from his painted lips onto his costume. No wonder he looked so filthy!  
“I see you caught the balloon,” the clown said to the boy, cackling, with a voice both young and old, “Did you enjoy running after it?” The little boy looked up at the clown, a big smile on his face, flushed from the running and the cold wind biting his cheeks, “Yes, yes!”  
  
“Would you like to come with me and see the circus?” the clown asked with allure. “Oh, yes! I love the circus!” the boy exclaimed. The clown seriously sounded like a rapist. Nervously, I looked around, waiting for a parent to come looking for the child. But no one was in sight.  
  
“Hey, buddy, you okay there?” I called, stepping forward, further into the alley. The boy turned around, his enthusiasm faltering slightly, and the clown’s attention shifted to me too, his gaze burning right through me with what looked to be confusion and anger.  
  
Bells jingled when the clown shifted, straightening to a full seven feet. If he was a rapist, I wasn’t sure what exactly I could do but grab the kid and scream for help. The coffee shop wasn’t too far off, so maybe Alex would hear me. There was no way in hell I could fight the clown off if push came to shove.  
  
“I’m sure your mom is looking for you buddy, let’s go find her,” I suggested, stepped closer and held out my hand. “But I wanted to go to the circus!” the boy pouted. “I’m sure your mom will take you on another day,” I tried to sound reasonable and prayed for the child to come to me before something bad would happen.  
  
“But he wants to go the circus now,” the clown’s voice was suddenly much deeper, more dangerous. I dared to shift my gaze from the child to the clown. Something was very, very wrong. A shiver danced down my spine, my instincts telling me to run, run, run. Delight flashed across his white painted features.  
  
“He can go another day,” I said, my face stern, my hand still outstretched, “Come on now.” The little boy let his shoulders slump in defeat and handed the balloon back to the clown, which folded its white gloved hand around the string.  
“Okay,” the boy agreed and, thank God, came towards me, grabbing my hand. “You should leave,” I said with a warning tone, looking at the clown. His eyes pierced into mine, so much frustration in them, and in utter shock and disbelief I saw their color change from blue to a yellow-gold.  
  
My first instinct was to grab the kid and run, so for a second I took my eyes off of the clown, my arms circling the little boy, heaving him up. When I looked back into the alley, the stranger was gone. He had just disappeared, into thin air. Confused, I looked around. It was a dead end, no doors to either the left or right. Where had he gone?  
  
“Let’s go find your mom,” I tried to sound as reassuring as possible, hurrying out of the alley with the boy in my arms. “I just really wanted to go to the circus,” he said, disappointment in his voice. “You’ll go another day, I’m sure,” I got out, glad when we were finally back on Main Street and around other, normal, people. Hopefully I’d find his parents soon. And hopefully they would never ever take him to the circus.


	3. Chapter 3

Built in a colonial style, like most of the other houses in the street, the Denbrough home was lit up invitingly, radiating warmth. The house was painted a timeless gray, accented with white windows. Carved pumpkins were already sitting on the porch, the clumsily cutout features made by children grinning up at me in greeting.   
  
Before I had time to knock on the door, it was being pulled open, little Georgie grinning up at me enthusiastically. “I saw you pulling up to the house,” he announced. Behind the little blonde boy that beamed up at me, a lanky teenager appeared, his red hair falling into his cute face slightly. Green eyes took me in with curiosity.   
  
“This is my brother, Bill,” Georgie explained as Bill stepped up to us. “It’s n-n-nice to meet you,” Bill smiled at me. I liked him instantaneously — the Denbroughs sure were lucky to have such sweet children. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m Amelia. Thank you for having me tonight,” I greeted them, “Where’s your mom and dad, I brought them a bottle of wine.” The boys stepped aside to let me in and I saw their mother rushing to the door.   
  
“Miss Welsh, I’m so glad you could make it,” she straightened the skirt of her dress before she tugged me into a tight hug. “Please, just call me Amelia,” I offered, hugging her back. A man stepped into the hallway, all smiles like the rest of his family, and offered me his hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m Zack Denbrough,” he introduced himself. “And please call me Sharon,” Mrs Denbrough hurried to add.   
  
After handing them the bottle of wine that I had brought, they led me into the dining room, which was set neatly, a roast already sitting on the table, filling the room with a divine smell. “You shouldn’t have gone through so much trouble,” I noted, secretly already for the delicious meal — I didn’t doubt that Sharon had spent many hours in the kitchen today.   
  
When we had sat down and started to fill our plates with food, I noticed Georgie staring out of the windows, which went out to the front yard. “You okay, honeybun?” I checked, following his intense gaze. For a second, I could have sworn that I saw the flash of yellow-golden eyes, but after I blinked, they were gone. Georgie nodded and I discarded what I thought I had seen. It was probably just my imagination running wild.   
  
Over dinner we chatted lightly — Georgie told me about a project he was doing for school, straightening up in his chair with pride. His older brother, who I had learned was thirteen, kept tabs on him closely. There was a lot of love between these siblings and it broke my heart should they have been pulled apart.   
  
“I’ll go get desert,” Sharon said, stacking the plates with her husband, making room for more food. “Let me help you,” I offered, starting to get up. “No, please. You’re the guest of honor tonight,” Zack insisted, so I slumped back into my chair.   
  
“I wanted to tha-tha-thank you for saving Georgie,” Bill said, his green eyes regarding me intently. Unsure of what to say, I just grinned, ruffling the little boy’s blonde hair, “You just stay safe the next time, okay? No more running off and talking to strange clowns.”  
Georgie looked up to me, “But he talks to me all the time.” My heartbeat stopped. “Excuse me?” I checked, my eyes wandering to Bill, in case his little brother wasn’t telling the truth. But Bill looked just as taken aback as myself.   
  
“Where has he t-t-talked to you? You’ve been ho-home the rest of the day?” he checked. Looking between us, Georgie mumbled, “He’s in my closet.” Bill’s gaze met mine. “Would you show me?” I asked, “Would that be okay with your mom and dad?”  
Bill nodded, getting up and leading me upstairs while his brother held my hand tightly.   
Georgie’s room was cheerful, filled with stuffed animals and toys, his built-in closet making up most of one side of the room. During the day, two windows would flood the room with light, but, frankly, I couldn’t really see anyone climbing in through them. I wasn’t exactly surprised when we found no one in the closet — Bill and I had checked it meticulously. Not that a seven foot tall clown could hide easily to begin with.  
  
“What are all of you doing up here?” Sharon said from the doorway. “Georgie thought he saw the clown hiding in his closet,” I explained, still holding her son’s hand protectively. “There’s no-no-nothing here,” Bill added. “It’s probably just his imagination,” Sharon noted, but still looked concerned. “Maybe you can sleep in your brother’s room tonight, hm?” I suggested, squeezing his small hand. Their mother nodded her head in agreement.   
  
Together we walked back downstairs, a delicious apple pie already cut up and ready to devour. While we ate, I glanced out the window, again seeing those uncanny eyes for the split of a second. When looking at Bill, I noticed that he, too, was fixated on something outside. When his green eyes met mine, he swallowed hard. He had seen the eyes, I was sure of it. Or maybe we were all going crazy.  
  
When we had finished dinner and I had thanked Sharon and Zack over and over again for a delicious meal and a nice evening, it was time to say goodbye to the kids, “Take good care of each other, okay?” Georgie nodded with a smile, the easy cheerfulness that only a child could possess completely restored. “I’ll see you around,” I said and waved at the family. 


	4. Chapter 4

With a full belly, I made my way home. Secretly grateful that I had left some of the lights on before I left, so I wasn’t coming home to a dark house. This clown had gotten to me way more than I’d liked to admit.   
  
After having washed my face and changed into pajamas, I cuddled up in bed, tugging the duvet extra close around me, making sure my feet were under the covers, so no monsters could munch on my toes.   
  
Before drifting off to sleep, I decided to read a little, so I opened my book. A slip of paper fell out and I inspected it with curiosity. It was a phone number…Alex’s phone number to be exact. My heart skipped a beat — for a good reason this time. Biting my lip in order to keep myself from grinning too broadly, I found my cell and wrote a text, ‘Smooth’ it said. Nothing more.   
  
And that single word started an entire conversation that had me up way later than I had anticipated. Alex and I had decided on going out for coffee tomorrow, which basically meant that I would come to the coffee shop after he had closed it up for the day. Whether we would stay there or go someplace else, he wouldn’t tell me.   
  
Smiling like a retarded idiot, I padded into the kitchen, having gotten thirsty in the meantime. A yawn slipped from me when I pulled a glass out of one of the cabinets. Absentmindedly I ran the faucet for a while, waiting for the water to run cold. Sleepily, I wanted to look out the window that was over the sink, but a faint reflection of something behind me caught my eye instead: a silver-white clad, tall figure was standing behind me, yellow eyes fixed on me.   
  
I swirled around, throwing the glass to the floor, making it shatter. “What the actual fuck?” I hissed. There was nothing there. Absolutely nothing. I shook my head, turning around after I had turned the still running faucet off. “You’re going insane,” I scolded myself. Carefully, I bent down, slowly starting to collect the shards of glass.   
  
“You can see me…,” a voice made me freeze. It was the clown’s voice, without a doubt. But it was more solid, not as multidimensional as it had been in the alley. Steadier, calmer…more dangerous. Slowly I straightened, grateful that I was holding one of the larger shards in my hand, should I need to defend myself.   
  
“How did you get in here?” I demanded, facing the creep. Only the kitchen isle was separating us. He angled his head in a predatory way, more animal than human. Goosebumps rose on my flesh. “What are you?” the clown asked me, no grin on his lips this time around. I swallowed hard. “What are you?” I asked instead, trying to calculate the quickest way out of the house. A grim smile spread on his face when he noticed my eyes shifting from him for only a split second, “You cannot outrun me.”   
  
Something within me knew that he was right. “Tell me what you are,” he said. “I’m…a human girl?!” My voice sounded unsure. What was it that he wanted to hear? “Human…,” he tested the word, as if tasting it on his tongue for a moment and then sniffed the air, nostrils flaring delicately, “So different from the others. Intriguing little human.”  
  
“I’m five-foot-nine, so I’m not exactly little,” I noted drily. He frowned, as if confused by that remark. The longer he just stood there, the calmer I got. Shouldn’t I be scared shitless? Wasn’t that the normal thing to be? As if knowing where my mind had gone, he noted, “You’re not afraid.”  
  
With soft jingling bells he took a step forward. Then another. And another. Slowly stepping around the isle, regarding me like a predator its prey. Automatically, I grabbed the shard closer, the sharp edges cutting into my skin, drawing blood. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from wincing.   
  
“You’re so different. Why, why, why,” he sounded as if he was chanting to himself. His yellow eyes slid from mine, down to the blood trickling onto the floor. Delight flashed across his caked-on clown face. “Why could you see me?” he asked, his gloved hand reaching for my bleeding hand.   
  
Not knowing why, I let him take it, the material of his glove surprisingly soft, his touch tender. The shard fell out of my palm, shattering into smaller pieces on the floor. “Why could you see me?” he repeated, his attention fixed on the blood that was seeping out of the cut.   
“Because you were in the alley?” I reminded him, still unsure what he was getting at. “Not for you, not for you,” he said, completely hypnotized by my blood, “I wasn’t there for you.”   
  
To my utter disgust, he ran his tongue over my wound — it seemed longer than what was normal and bile rose in my throat. His eyes rolled back slightly until they closed. Instinctively I yanked my hand from his. With delight, his eyes opened again and he cackled, shaking himself slightly, making the bells jingle merrily.   
  
“What are you?” I got out, clutching my hand protectively. “Introductions, introductions,” he crooned, his voice losing some of the heaviness from before, “I am Pennywise the Dancing Clown.” He bowed at the waist, his eyes changing from yellow to blue before my eyes, “Tell me your name, little human.”  
  
“What are you?” I asked again, but Pennywise just gave me a goofy smile, a streak of drool dripping from his mouth, laced with my blood — it left a stain on his suit. It took all of me not to gag. “Neither of us is what they seem to be,” he mused, evading my question on purpose.   
  
“You’re so very different from the others. Why, why, why.” Pennywise took a step towards me, the glass shards crunching under the soles of his shoes. Retreating, I took a step back. We continued moving that way until I felt the fridge at my back, the coldness of the steel biting into my skin through the thin fabric of my t-shirt.   
  
Pennywise’s eyes burned through me, looking me up and down, trying to make sense of who I was. “You saw me while I was hunting. Why, why, why,” he purred, only inches between us now. I realized that I had made a terrible mistake by assuming that this thing, it, was human. Pennywise was anything but. A sweet scent of something like kettle corn filled my nose, but it was laced with something else…something foul.   
  
It hadn’t been creeping on Georgie, because it was a rapist. It had been hunting him — it had been planning on eating him. Just when that thought flashed through my mind, I felt how Pennywise’s drool dropped onto the neckline of my t-shirt and onto what was exposed of my skin, running down my cleavage.   
  
“Get away from me, you freak!” I shrieked, reaching next to me to the counter, finding the handle of the iron skillet I had used yesterday. With a swift movement I brought it down on Pennywise’s head, the impact sending a jolt through my arm. The creature let out a guttural growl, holding its head. Using the moment, I sprinted for my room, the skillet still in hand.   
  
Panting, I locked the door behind me. I shifted the skillet into my other hand, wanting to check on the cut that the clown had licked moments before; it would probably turn black and fall off, I had watched too many Grey’s Anatomy episodes to ignore the risk of an infected wound. But something else had happened: the wound had closed itself. It wasn’t completely healed, but the cut already looked as if it were two days old.   
  
“That was not fair,” Pennywise’s voice came from behind me and made me gasp. After I had turned around, the gloved hand reached out and snatched the skillet from my hand, throwing it across the room. “So daring,” it noted and in a moment it had me pushed up against the nearest wall, pinning me there.   
  
“Tell me your name,” its voice was alluring and the creature bent down slightly to sniff me. “No,” I got out, trying to shove it off of me. “Tell me your name,” it just said again, before I felt its warm tongue running over the soft skin of my neck. “I will have so much fun with you,” its breath tickling my heated flesh. Before I could put up any more struggle, I felt a hard hit against my head and the world went dark.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning I jolted awake. With a few deep breaths, I inspected my surroundings: my room was normal, tidy as I had left it before the clown had broken into the house. But the skillet…where was it? While I got out of bed, I ran my fingers over my head tenderly — surely I would have a bump from the blow I had taken.   
  
My scalp was bump-free. I didn’t even have a headache. In confusion, I looked at my palm: the cut was gone. There wasn’t so much as a scratch left. What the heck was going on?   
I wobbled from my room to the kitchen, stiff-legged from having slept until now, which turned out to be ten in the morning.   
  
To my utter surprise, the kitchen was pristine. The skillet was sitting in its place on the counter, where it had last night. No shards were scattered on the floor. I checked the cabinet — the glass that I had broken the night before was intact.   
  
Had I dreamt it? Had the yellow eyes gone to my head? Had my imagination played a trick on me? Was I going completely insane?  
  
Slumping down on one of the stools, I looked over the kitchen. Again and again, trying to notice that little something that would prove that I had not just had a hyperrealistic nightmare.   
Pennywise. That name. I was a writer and I had to make up a lot of shit, but I wouldn’t just come up with ‘Pennywise the Dancing Clown’ — or would I?  
  
After collecting myself slightly, I walked around the house, checking every window, every door. But everything was locked. It made no sense whatsoever. There were no indicators that Pennywise had been here last night, no possibility of it getting in without me or the advanced alarm system noticing.   
  
Shaking my head at what my vivid imagination had made me go through, I decided on taking a shower, trying as best as I could to focus on something else — on my date with Alex.  
  
Halfway through my date-night-prep-routine, Viola called to check in. Not wanting to worry her, I left out my weird-ass dream from last night and only told her about my dinner with the Denbroughs, after having saved Georgie from a potential rapist.   
  
She seemed wary after I had finished my report on the happenings, as if she knew that I was leaving out details. Trying to ease her suspicion and lead her thoughts elsewhere, I told her about my date with Alex. She told me that he was a nice guy and that she approved of me going out with him — not that I needed her approval per se, but it was still reassuring to have it.   
  
Viola told me to wear a dress tonight and give my black jeans a break, which I rolled my eyes at, but secretly agreed with. I heard her editor call her in the background, so we hurried to wrap up our conversation.   
  
After having shaved my legs, putting on some make-up and blowdrying my hair, I finally started looking through my closet. As this was a very casual first date, I didn’t want to overdo it, so I decided on wearing a flowy knee-length dress that had a boat neckline and sleeves that reached to my elbows. My tights, like the dress and my heeled ankle boots were all black — hey, I might retire my jeans, but never my signature color.   
  
Before leaving the house, I threw on a light, long black trench coat. I had decided on walking again, as I figured the fresh air would do my head good. Although my rationality had forced me to rule the happenings of last night off as a bad dream, it still sat weirdly with me.   
  
Pennywise had seemed real — the touch of his gloved hand, the heat of his tongue against my injured skin. Even the pain of the cut had seemed real. Sure, I’d had my fair share of vivid dreams, but this one had been next level.   
  
Hurrying my steps, I noticed that the sky overhead was turning dark — it looked like a storm was rolling in. A playful wind was ruffling through my coat, which I pulled tighter around myself and just when the coffee shop was in sight, heavy raindrops started to fall.   
  
“Perfect timing,” Alex said as I stepped through the door. In answer a thunder cracked outside, making me jump. “Tell me we don’t have to walk far from here,” I said with a grimace, smoothing over my hair. “You’re in luck. My place is just a stairwell away,” he smirked. “You live upstairs?” I checked. “This house belonged to my mom. I inherited it when she passed away. She used to have a bookstore in here,” Alex explained, looking around the place as if he could still see shelves filled with books, the entire layout of the old place burned into his memories.   
And mine, too. I suddenly remembered the cozy, packed bookstore where my aunt had taken me when I was younger. I realized that some of the heavier furniture that Alex had in his store, had been in his mother’s shop as well.   
  
“Ready to lock up?” I checked, leading the conversation away from his dead mother, knowing all too well how difficult it was to talk about a lost loved one. “Yeah, sorry for spacing out,” his smile had lost some of its brightness.   
  
Without saying anything else, he locked up the shop, turning down the lights before he lead me out of a back entrance. In the back, there was a narrow hallway with a staircase and another door, which was already locked for the night. Alex gestured for me to follow him up the steps, unlocking the door at the upper landing.   
  
“I promise my coffee is even better up here,” he said, his playfulness restored. He stepped aside, letting me in. The apartment was an industrial style loft space, with an exposed red brick wall that matched the outside of the house and dark hardwood floors. It was really fashionable and cozy.  
A red longhaired tabby was snoozing in a leather armchair at the window. “That’s Horatio. Don’t take his disinterest too personal, he’s a generally very underwhelmed creature,” Alex explained when he noticed me looking at his cat.   
  
“Shakespeare, huh?” I noted, sitting down at the wooden dinner table that had room for six guests, after he had pulled a chair out for me. “Shakespeare is my thing,” he admitted with a shrug, getting to work in his cozy kitchen. It didn’t surprise me that he had a very neat space, but I hadn’t expected it to be so fashionable — his apartment seemed pinterest-worthy.   
  
While he made us coffee, we chitchatted about the awful weather. “Did you walk here?” Alex checked, sitting down across from me. “Yes, it seemed silly to drive such a short distance,” I answered. “I’ll drive you home later tonight. The storm will only get worse over the next few days,” he sounded matter-of-fact.   
  
While Alex and I were bonding over delicious coffee and eventually a nice home cooked dinner, the storm indeed grew worse and with every howl of wind and passing minute, the thoughts about Pennywise and my nightmare faded.   
  
After desert, Alex and I had moved ourselves to the couch, where Horatio had deemed me worthy enough to climb onto my lap. His strong purr rumbled through my bones and filled me with warmth.   
  
“So, Amelia, what brought you back to Derry? I have to ask, because neither of us really seem like the type to live in a small-town like this,” Alex asked, his handsome features softly lit up by the few lamps that wrapped the room in a dim light now that darkness had fallen outside.   
“I finished my studies at Columbia…and it just felt like a good idea,” I started, but took a moment to overthink my statement, “Ultimately, I think I just wanted to feel closer to my mom.”  
  
He nodded sympathetically. “I heard about what happened to your parents,” his voice was low, signaling that I didn’t have to talk about it if I didn’t want to. “I was in the car with them, you know,” I commented.   
Alex sat up straighter, leaning in slightly. This was news to him and it didn’t surprise me. Only very few people knew about this.   
  
“I died that night, too,” my voice was barely more than a whisper, “but they managed to bring me back to life.” His brows nudged together in a frown. “I was dead for a full three minutes. The doctors said I should be happy that my brain was not damaged,” I added.   
  
A part of me didn’t want to admit that I had been damaged emotionally instead, damaged in a way that I still hadn’t been able to repair.   
  
“I’m sorry,” he got out and put his hand on mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I felt tears stinging in my eyes and looked away, gathering myself. While I blinked away the tears, looking out the window, I noticed mesmerizing yellow-golden eyes staring straight at me.   
  
This time they didn’t disappear in a split second, but rather vanished slowly, fading into the darkness until I could no longer see them. I shook my head as to clear it, asking myself if I was going batshit again.   
  
“Maybe I should get home and into bed,” I suggested, realizing how late it had gotten. If I was starting to see the weird clown, I was probably more tired than I realized. “Sure,” Alex took another moment before he let go of my hand.   
He got up and put our mugs away before finding my coat. Carefully I sat Horatio down, who just gave me a disapproving look. Cats.  
  
“By the way, did they ever find that weirdo that was creeping up on Georgie yesterday?” Alex checked, helping me into my coat. “I…don’t think so,” I answered, thinking back to the creepy clown that I had also seen last night, in my house.   
Maybe I shouldn’t go home — but the truth was that I wasn’t exactly ready to stay the night with Alex either. Even if I might have prepped for it…might.   
“Make sure to lock your doors tonight,” he said with a smile. “Oh, I will,” I assured him. 


	6. Chapter 6

On the street, no adult seemed to be looking for a child so, eventually, I turned back to the coffee shop. Alex looked up from my book, which he apparently had started reading behind the counter. His brows nudged together in confusion when he saw me carrying in the little boy, who was clutching onto me for dear life, almost as if a part of him had understood the danger he had been in.  
  
“Georgie?” Alex checked, putting the book down and coming out, towards us, looking at me for an explanation. “A clown crept up on him in the side alley,” I said, not wanting to go into detail with the child still in my arms. His head rested on my shoulder, his breathing tickling my ear.   
“That’s the youngest Denbrough boy,” Alex clarified, fumbling for his cell, “I’m going to call your mom, Georgie. She can come pick you up here.” Georgie looked up, “She will be mad at me for running away.”   
  
“I’m sure she’s mostly going to be happy that you’re unscathed,” my voice was gentle and I gave him a little reassuring squeeze, which resulted in him putting his head back on my shoulder. Alex found the number in his cell, dialed and talked to Georgie’s mom.   
  
“Do you want a fresh cup of coffee?” Alex checked after he had hung up. Mrs Denbrough was on her way here and although I had not overheard what she said on the phone, I could just imagine how relieved she must be. “That would be great, thank you,” I smiled at Alex, maneuvering myself with the boy still in my arms into a chair. “I just wanted to go to the circus,” Georgie whispered into my ear with a sigh, “He promised me I would float down there.”   
  
Angling my head, to catch a glimpse of the small blonde boy, I frowned at the words. He truly seemed disappointed. “Float? Where?” I checked. Georgie shrugged in my arms, his brown doe eyes looking into the distance.   
  
Hadn’t the clown and Georgie first met in the alley? Shouldn’t I have heard that part of the conversation?   
  
“When did he promise you that?” I asked, trying not to sound too curious. “This morning. Before my momma made me come back inside for breakfast.” My heart pounded in my chest. This creepy clown had been lurking around Georgie the entire day.   
  
Alex looked worried when he placed a fresh latte in front of me. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he noted. I bet I did. I could almost feel that my already pale face was now drained from what little color it had to begin with.  
  
“His mom is going to be here any minute. They don’t live that far away,” Alex said as he realized that I wouldn’t say anything as long as the boy was still in my arms. So we sat in quiet.   
My fingers felt numb against the hot mug, while I sipped from my coffee. But with every gulp, the warmth of my body was restored, so I didn’t think anything of it.   
  
“George!” I turned as much as I could, taking in the woman who had just hurried inside. Her red hair was neatly brushed back into a ponytail and yet the color of it reminded me of the clown, which sent a shiver down my spine all over again. Her petite frame was covered with a floral printed dress, a light coat and a scarf covering her up enough to withstand the autumn chill.   
  
“Thank you so much for finding him,” she said to me, her eyes lined with silver, relief tinging her every word, “I have been looking for him for the past hour. I thought he was out playing with Bill and his friends.”   
“Georgie, I’m sure Alex will give you a treat while I talk to your mom,” I tried to sound cheerful and apparently enough so to get a smile from the little boy who let go off me and jumped down from my lap. Fortunately, Alex understood, taking the kid by the hand, leading him off behind the counter.   
  
“Where did you find him?” Mrs Denbrough asked, slumping into the chair across from me. “The question is, who did I find him with,” I said in a hushed voice, scooting to the edge of my chair, leaning in. “He was in the side alley. A clown had apparently lured him in there with a red balloon and the promise of taking him to the circus.”  
  
Mrs Denbrough looked concerned, the color draining from her face, just as mine had moments before. “There’s no circus in town,” she breathed. “I don’t know if any circus would ever have such a creepy clown as part of their troupe,” I started before going on to explain the clown in as much detail as I could. Horror flashed across her face.   
“Maybe you should have the police look into this,” I suggested after having told her everything that had happened. She nodded, lost in thought, and almost jumped when Georgie climbed into her lap. “Again, thank you so, so much, Amelia. Could I invite you to our house for dinner tonight? Please, I’d love to have you over,” she offered, blinking away the tears that had pooled up again while we had talked.   
  
“Oh, yes! You could meet my big brother, Bill! He’s my best, best friend,” Georgie sounded so enthusiastic that I felt myself nod in agreement immediately. “Of course, thank you for inviting me.”  
She scribbled down their address on a piece of paper and told me to be at their place by six pm. With a wave and big smile, Georgie left the coffee shop with his mom.   
  
“I better get going, too,” I said as I met Alex’s eyes, “What do I owe you for the coffee?” He shook his head, “Heroines don’t pay for their lattes. It’s on the house.” I felt heat rise up in my cheeks. “Don’t forget your book this time,” he added and handed me my copy of A Scanner Darkly. “Thanks. I’ll see you around,” I said, grabbed my bag and was on my way out. “I sure hope so,” he noted with a smirk.   
  
With hurried steps, I went back to Aunt Viola’s house, desperate for a long shower and some clarification on who the hell that creepy clown was. A part of me knew that this wouldn’t be the only time I’d see him. And all the way home, it felt like eerie yellow eyes were watching my every step. 


	7. Chapter 7

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Alex asked, the engine of his car still running as we stood in the driveway. “If you’d like,” I answered coyly. A gentle smile formed on his beautiful lips. “I’d like that a lot,” he promised, reaching out and tugging a strand of my hair behind my ear.   
  
“I’ll walk you to your door,” he suggested. “You don’t have to, you’ll get all wet from the rain,” I said, feeling heat rise into my cheeks. “But I want to,” he turned off the car, got out and opened my door. “I’m just making sure you get home safely,” he noted with a grin, helping me out. As we walked up to the front door, he still held onto my hand.   
I was suddenly grateful for the rain that cooled my hot face.   
  
For a moment, I fumbled for my keys as we stood in the soft light of the outdoor lamps. “Thank you for a really nice evening,” I said, having found the key I needed. Alex gave me a disarming smile and I could see his blue eyes flicker to my lips.   
Courage made me take a step towards him, which instantly made him reach for me. His strong hands cupped my face tenderly before he leaned down and kissed me, tentatively at first. My keys fell to the floor as I rested my hands against his chest, answering his kiss with more eagerness than I had anticipated.   
  
Somewhere behind him, I could have sworn that I heard the merry jingling of small bells, but when we broke apart and I looked into the darkness, there was nothing there. “What’s wrong?” he checked, his hands let go of my face and moved to my waist instead.   
“I thought I heard something,” I mumbled. “I don’t think anyone’s out here,” Alex replied, looking around us. The only sound were the rustling leaves and the pattering of the heavy rain against the windows and the roof. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” I lied, still feeling like we were being watched.   
  
Alex bent down and picked up my keys. “Lock up tight, okay?” he urged and waited for me to open the front door. “Text me if you need me,” he added with a wink. “I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I grinned. Instead of saying anything else, he bent down to kiss me again.   
“Let me know when you’re home safely,” I called after him when he walked back to his car. He promised to do so and I watched him drive off before closing the door to the storm and enabling the alarm system.   
  
Inside, I kicked off my boots and hung up my damp coat. A smile was plastered to my lips as I walked into the bathroom to wash up. Never had I expected Derry to treat me this good.   
  
After I had changed into my pajamas, I decided to make a cup of tea. On my way to the kitchen, I made sure to turn on a couple of lamps, making me feel more at ease. Although the evening at Alex’s had helped me get over the nightmare, I still felt a little antsy — especially when I filled the kettle with water. But when I looked into the window over the sink, trying to see something in the reflection, there was nothing there. No eyes, no jingly bells. No clown.   
  
With a steamy mug of tea in hand, I made my way back to my room, deciding to do a little bit of writing before sleep. Alex’s kiss had suddenly woken me up again, so there was no way I’d go to bed now. Just when I had started to get into my work, I received a text from him, telling me that he had gotten home alright and was now cuddled up in bed.   
  
For a moment we texted back and forth, until I excused myself and went back to work. Quickly I had filled a page with words and just when another paragraph was wrapped up, a loud thunder cracked outside. Immediately afterwards, the lights around me shut off, only my laptop illuminating my surroundings faintly.  
  
“Fuck,” I hissed. A power outage was literally the last thing I needed right now. Checking the streetlights outside, I realized that the electricity of the entire street must have shut down as everything was dark.   
Cursing under my breath, the flashlight of my phone turned on, I made my way back into the kitchen, finding an actual flashlight and some candles and matches. After carrying everything back into my room, I lit the candles, filling the space with as much light as possible.   
  
I texted Alex, asking if Main Street was wrapped in darkness as well. He said the power was still on in his part of town, but he was sure that the issue would resolve itself quickly.   
  
Shrugging of my uneasy feeling, I decided to keep on working. The pattering of rain, rushing of wind, and my fingers flying over the keyboard were the only sounds. But suddenly my fingers halted and a shiver danced down my spine. Something was wrong. Someone was here.   
  
I turned around in my chair, looking behind me into the dark hallway and trying to make out any moving shadows in the open floor plan beyond. Nothing. I could see absolutely nothing. The only thing I could see were the eerily dancing shadows the candles were throwing onto the walls.   
  
“Hello?” I called into the darkness, feeling like a complete idiot because no serial killer would ever be stupid enough to say hello back. Waiting tensely, nothing happened. The only sounds were from the storm outside.   
  
Letting go of a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding, I tried to get back to work, rolling my shoulders and telling myself over and over again that I was being paranoid. While I read over the last sentence that I hadn’t finished yet, I suddenly heard something: the jingling of bells. And a distant cackle.   
  
I swallowed hard, grabbed my phone and backed into a corner of my room, sinking to the floor in defeat.   
  
My fingers typed ‘help’ into the message to Alex, but I waited to hit send. If I was imagining things again and he would rush over here, I would feel like a complete moron. With a glance, I checked the window, deciding that if shit would hit the fan, I could climb out of it and run.   
  
Swallowing hard, I decided I might as well face whatever, whoever was out there, “Pennywise?”  
  
Nothing happened. And yet, the hairs on the back of my neck rose. My stomach turned leaden when I heard the faint sound of bells…and steps. “You remembered my name, little human,” it cooed, the voice so very close to my door now. Although I had braced myself, I still felt my heart skip a beat when it stepped into my room. It was just as I remembered: tall, eery, clad in its silver-white renaissance clown suit.   
  
To my surprise it approached me slowly, sizing me up with every step until it, eventually, was in front of me, perching down. “You’ve showed so much of yourself today. And here I thought it would take me longer to figure you out,” the voice coming from it was calm, collected.   
The yellow eyes ran over my crouched body, until they bore into mine. So it had kept track of me today, had heard everything I’ve said to Alex.   
  
“Does that change anything?” I demanded. Pennywise mused for a moment, seriously considering, his eyes looking me over, again and again. “Yes, yes, yes,” it finally said, beaming at me.   
“Why not kill me? Isn’t that what you want?” I pressed. “Now, where would the fun in that be?” it asked, reaching a glowed hand out and running a thumb over my lover lip, the caressing touch of a lover.  
  
What worried me most was that I was not afraid of it, I wasn’t even appalled. There was something…something unspoken and inexplainable between this creature and I.   
  
“You have seen the darkness,” it breathed, “I don’t need to show it to you.” The gloved fingers ghosted from my lips, down to my throat, closing around it delicately. With its other hand, it took away my phone, placing it out of my reach   
  
“What do you want with me?” I asked, feeling my heart hammer against my chest. Pennywise leaned in, sharing breath with me now, “I don’t know yet, my sweet, little human.” The otherworldly yellow eyes looked all the way through me, into my soul. “We will have so much fun, you and I.”  
  
Moments passed and it felt like what little space was left between us grew smaller and smaller, as if it was leaning in to kiss me, just as Alex had done not that long ago. I could feel the hot breath of the creature against my lips already, but suddenly the lights turned back on. And the moment light flooded my room, Pennywise was gone.   
  
It was like a bad dream. All over again. 


End file.
